


What a Difference a Night Makes

by allamchick



Series: Marlas: The Relationship A to Z [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamchick/pseuds/allamchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas is sure a relationship with Martin is impossible, but one night, things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reminiscing

Had anyone told the newly divorced Douglas just 3 short months ago that his next and, eventually, life-long relationship would be with his gangly, ginger-haired, freckle-skinned Captain, he'd have shown the person the door. First Officer Douglas Richardson was not gay, or bisexual, or anything but straight and manly. Had been for 59 years and would be until the day he died. But here they were, three months in, enjoying a smooth, loving, fulfilling relationship: straight-as-an-arrow Douglas and his even straighter Captain. And neither would trade their relationship for anything in the world.

_"Are you alright?" Martin asked one evening in bed. Douglas was sitting up looking at a magazine, but his mind was far away. Martin - astute, sensitive Martin - could tell at a glance._

_"Yes. Fine. I was just thinking about how we ended up together. Funny old world, isn't it, Sir?"_

_"Wonderful world," Martin replied with a smile, and turned out the light._

Douglas had noticed Martin slowly, by degrees, after he discovered Helena cheated on him. Martin offered his sympathies, and Douglas felt an uncharacteristic surge of appreciation for his Captain's concern. He and Helena separated, with Douglas moving into a flat. Martin helped him move his things, Douglas watching Martin's muscles flexing as he lifted boxes. A month later, Douglas filed the divorce papers. He was overwrought and shaken. Martin drove him to the court house, and Douglas noticed that his hands were as strong and sure on the wheel of his van as they were on the yoke of Gerti. Within a year Douglas was a free man. He showed Martin his decree absolute and Martin shook his hand as they boarded Gerti. Douglas felt how smooth and warm Martin's freckled skin felt in his own large hand. None of these incidents registered as anything but casual observances to Douglas, at least not at the moments they happened. Eventually, Martin started dating Princess Theresa of Lichtenstein, whom he met when she chartered Gerti, and Douglas dated various air hostesses and women he met in his travels. The world was in order. And then, _it_ happened.

_"I was blindsided," Douglas murmured against Martin's ear. Magazine tossed aside, he snuggled against Martin in the dark._

_"What do you mean?" Martin asked as he pressed his body back against Douglas' broad chest._

_"You took me by surprise. I never expected to fall in love with you. I never expected to fall in love with anyone, ever again, but least of all you. You got under my skin, Captain, and I surrender to your charms."_

_Martin turned to face Douglas and kissed him gently on the lips._

_"What an excellent idea," he murmured, slipping a hand under the waistband of Douglas' pajamas._

Princess Theresa emailed Martin one afternoon to say they could no longer see each other. It was not up to her: her government and her family forbid it. She would have told him in person but she was forbidden to see him. Martin read the email in a dingy hotel on a layover in Paris and cried in Douglas' arms. Douglas held him tightly, afraid he might fly apart from the intensity of his sobs. Tears streaked his cheeks, his sharp cheekbones glimmering in the pale light of the dim room. And without realizing, Douglas thought: _She has no idea what she has lost. This man is intelligent and handsome and brave and if she doesn't want him, he's better off without her._ That's when the trouble began. 

Douglas replayed the scattered moments of Martin-centered observations and realized they were the sort he might squander on the opposite sex. The smoothness of skin, the beauty of flesh, the lovely scent of cologne, a smile, a stretch, a whisper. It happened so slowly Douglas was not even aware he fancied Captain Crieff until he held the sobbing man in his arms. But Douglas was not gay. Even if he had preferred the boys, Captain Martin Crieff would not be his cup of tea. He was a prissy, bossy, stuttering mess of a man who insisted Douglas call him sir even though Douglas was 23 years his senior. He lived in the attic of a horrible student house, eating toast and pasta because it was all he could afford. He desperately tried to carve out a life for himself as a respectable pilot, but he was not paid for his pains. Literally. He traded a paycheck for the chance to be captain, preferring respect over survival. His job hauling other people's junk barely allowed him to eat. He was not a catch.

But. But, but, but, but, but....

If Douglas were gay, certain things about Martin would be acceptable, even attractive. Douglas supposed Martin was tall enough, about 6 foot to Douglas' 6'2". And he was thin and firm from his van job. Douglas also supposed his smile was one other people would call infectious, or even adorable, if pressed. And his ginger hair was wavy and sometimes one errant curl would settle over his forehead, just aching to be tucked away. Douglas thought more susceptible people than he might consider Martin's blue-gray eyes seductive. Come hither eyes, he remembered reading once in a cheap pulp detective novel. But Douglas was not interested in Martin.

He tried to convince himself of that. He really did.

Well, of one thing Douglas was convinced: he wasn't gay. He really wasn't gay. He never had the slightest interest in men before, even though he worked with some very handsome pilots. But something about Martin crawled under his skin and he couldn't convince himself that an attraction didn't exist.

But it was a one-way attraction. It _had_ to be.

Martin had loved Princess Theresa. Douglas knew that for a fact from the way Martin spoke of her and from the feelings he confessed when he had a bit too much to drink on a layover. And a man who cried so pitifully over the loss of his girlfriend would not welcome his male first officer as a replacement. Martin was not gay. This was another thing of which Douglas was convinced.

Douglas _was_ firmly convinced, until the day Martin agreed to have dinner with him and the night they made love, and the moment in time when Douglas realized that everything he ever believed was wrong.


	2. The Night It All Changed

"Post-flight checks complete," Martin murmured, sounding for all the world like a man who couldn't give a flying fuck if the post flight checks were complete.

"Plans for the evening, Sir, now that we're once again in beautiful downtown Fitton?" Douglas asked, unbuckling his seat belt and stretching luxuriously.

Martin watched him. Douglas saw Martin watch him.

How interesting.

"No. No plans at all. None at all. None. No plans," Martin stammered. "Umm, you?"

Douglas smiled. "About the same as you."

"Oh. Well, sometimes it's nice to be on one's own of an evening. Isn't it?" Martin looked down at his hands. They were clenching the yoke.

Douglas stood. "No, it isn't. Would Sir care to join me for dinner? Two bachelors out on the town, raising hell. My treat."

"Oh, I, that is, I mean, are you sure, Douglas? Only I haven't been very good company lately, what with Theresa..... Are you sure you want to share your evening with me?"

"Yes, Martin, I'm sure. I would not have asked if I were not sure. I never do anything I don't think I'll thoroughly enjoy. You know that."

Douglas lifted his jacket from his seat back and waited for Martin's answer. His heart thumped a bit harder in his chest than it should have done. After all, this was Martin, not some lithe, supple young hostie he expected to shag come evening's end.

Did he?

"Alright," Martin replied, standing and donning his hat.

"Marvelous!" Douglas opened the cockpit door with unusual vigor. "I'll pick you up at 7. Formal dress not required, but t-shirts and jeans are not an option. See you tonight."

 

Douglas knocked on the door of Martin's house exactly at 7 pm. A young woman answered and smiled. Douglas thought she looked impossibly young. He wondered if he ever looked that young.

"You must be Douglas. Martin said you'd be by at 7. Come on in, I'll get him."

Douglas knew he didn't look young anymore, but he knew he looked smart in a gray suit, with his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and revealing just a hint of chest hair. Just a hint, though. Douglas had very sparse body hair, but the hair on his head more than made up for it. Salt-and-pepper though it was, it was also thick and wavy, and he parted it just a tiny bit off-center and combed it away from his face. And although he wasn't svelte, he certainly didn't have the usual middle-aged belly paunch so many pilots had acquired from years of sitting. Yes, Douglas knew he still cut a handsome figure for a man knocking on the door of 60.

Martin walked down the steps a moment later wearing crisp black pants and a purple button-down shirt. Both hugged his lanky body like a second skin. He was holding a black leather jacket, a present from his ex-princess. Douglas' breath hitched.

"Why, Sir! I daresay the ladies are in trouble this evening!" _I'm in trouble this evening._

"Douglas," Martin replied, but without the usual vinegar. _He looks amazing. That hair...I want to run my fingers through it..._

"No, really, Martin, you look quite dapper. You clean up very well." _Oh, God. Very well!_

"Well, thank you. And, you know, so do you. I mean, you look nice. Gray is a good color for you. It brings out your eyes." _Why did I say that!_

Douglas smiled. 

"Shall we?" he asked, opening the door for Martin and stepping aside, waiting for Martin to exit first.

As Martin walked out, Douglas resisted the urge to caress the small of his back.

 

The restaurant was dimly lit and cozy. Douglas selected it on purpose.

"This is nice, two friends sharing each other's company," Martin said as he scanned the menu.

"I thought we could both use a night out." Douglas peeked over his menu and saw Martin watching him. _Am I on the menu?_ he wondered.

"We've been through the ringer we two, haven't we?" Martin remarked matter-of-factly.

"It would seem we have. Indeed. So, what are you in the mood for tonight, Captain?" _Me, perhaps?_

Martin looked at Douglas with a question in his eyes. Douglas jiggled his menu.

"Oh. Um, well, what do you, um, suggest?"

"You like salmon. They do a lovely salmon steak with dill sauce."

Martin smiled. "How do you know I like salmon?" _He's noticed something I like!_

"I am in Sir's company for months out of a year, sharing meals in different restaurants all over the world. I have come to learn your preferences. You've probably learned a few of mine as well."

Martin thought a moment. "Well, sushi, obviously. But you also seem to enjoy beef more than lamb or pork or chicken. And potatoes over pasta. Did I get that right?"

"Perfect! Sir has been paying attention after all. I'm delighted."

"Are you?" Martin asked furtively, and then blushed from cheeks to neck.

Douglas very gently slid his foot forward under the table, until the toe of his polished shoe touched the side of Martin's loafer. Neither one moved.

"I am, Martin. I truly am."

As if on cue, the waiter appeared. Douglas sighed. _Couldn't he have waited two more minutes!_ Martin did order the salmon, and Douglas ordered steak. Martin refused wine, opting for the same thing as Douglas: mineral water. 

"I thought perhaps afterward we could repair to the local pub, if you'd like. Maybe you could meet an eligible lady," Douglas suggested, although the words caused his gorge to rise. He didn't want Martin meeting any ladies, eligible or otherwise. But he had to know if Martin was thinking the same thing he was. 

Martin's face fell. 

"Oh, I see. Well, I don't know Douglas. I mean, I don't know if I want to, that is, I thought maybe we, we could, you know, or, or something. But if you'd rather, if you don't want to, I mean, spend the evening with, with me..."

Douglas smiled.

"What did Sir have in mind?"

"Nothing! Really, nothing specific, I just thought it would be nice to keep this, well, keep it between us. You know, guys' night out, sort of thing. You don't drink so we shouldn't go to the pub. We could chat, we could, you know, talk about, about, oh, I don't know..."

The sight of his Captain stammering and blushing was positively gorgeous. 

_When did he become **my** Captain?_

"....or the park nearby. It should be quiet...."

"May I suggest my flat," Douglas offered, interrupting a particularly dithering stretch of Martin's speech. "It's quiet and private, and not too far from here. And whenever Sir is ready to go home, I will happily oblige."

"Your, your flat?" Martin squeaked. "Oh! Well, yes. Okay. That, that would be nice. Very nice. We, we could talk. In private. Private talking. Just us guys, in private."

Douglas smiled broadly, the smile that Martin noticed made the bridge of his nose crinkle. Martin thought it was adorable.

"You are allowed to relax, Martin. After all, we've known each other for years. I had rather hoped you'd feel comfortable around me after all this time."

Martin sighed and looked down at his hands, worrying the edge of his linen napkin. "I do, Douglas. At work and, and on layover and, you know, in Gerti, doing work things. But this is different. We're out just because, because we're having an evening together. We aren't on layover or, or about to fly Gerti. We're, we're, I mean..."

"I believe the phrase for which Sir is struggling is 'on a date'."

Martin looked up. Douglas caught his breath at the look in his Captain's eyes: raw, needy, expectant, and hopeful. How one person could feel all of that at one time and not explode Douglas did not know. But he realized something important at that moment: he had to be careful with Martin's heart.

"Is it, Douglas? A, a date?"

It was Douglas' turn to sigh. "I would very much like it to be a date, Martin. Would you?"

Martin remained silent for a few moments, but Douglas could almost hear his thoughts working.

And then Martin spoke. "Yes, I would. I would like this to be a date."

 

_They had removed their pajamas, slowly, luxuriantly, each attending to the other. Douglas rolled Martin neatly on top of him, their erections slotting together, and placed a gentle, reverent kiss on his cheek._

_"What was that for?" Martin asked, smiling and chuckling at the tenderness of that simple act._

_"I don't often express myself to you the way you deserve. Words are easy to say. Sex is wonderful but momentary. Whatever we have, Martin, whatever this is, it isn't fleeting. I am in this for the long haul. I want you to know that. I want the world to know."_

_"Douglas..."_

_"Martin Crieff, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"_

_Martin gasped._

_"Douglas! Are you sure?"_

_"I am more sure of this than I have ever been of anything in my life."_

_"Then, yes. Yes, I'll marry you."_


	3. I Don't Know What To Do

Martin liked Douglas' flat. It was small but tidy and smartly decorated. Douglas opted for muted tans and beiges for walls and broadloom, with bold blues and greens for throw cushions and area rugs. Pictures of his daughter at various ages graced an entire wall. Martin looked at the most recent one from her 16th birthday. She looked like her father: dark brown eyes defiant, one eyebrow cocked, smirking instead of smiling. Martin got the impression she was a pistol, as his mother would have said.

"Five feet, nine inches of pure attitude," Douglas remarked, handing Martin a mug of tea.

"Only a loving father would say that."

Douglas smiled. "I adore her."

They sat and sipped their tea, chatting more about Douglas' daughter and about work and their misfortunes with their exes. Skating around the edges of what they really wanted to say to each other. 

"I have come to the conclusion that things happen for very specific reasons," Douglas admitted with a small moue. "We may not like those reasons, and we may feel broken as the events occur, but the purposes always reveal themselves."

"I suppose," Martin agreed. "So, what was the purpose for your divorce with Helena?"

Douglas placed his mug on a coaster next to Martin's and faced his young Captain fully.

"You, Martin. This. The reason for the divorce was so that I could realize how much I care for you."

Douglas leaned forward and kissed Martin gently on his full, closed lips. Douglas worshipped those lips, had imagined them parted and panting, or wrapped around his erection. 

"Douglas," Martin moaned. 

They kissed again, lips parted, tongues very delicately searching, until Martin pulled away and looked deeply into Douglas' dark brown eyes.

"Please, don't do this if you don't mean it. I've, well, I've wanted you since that day, that day Theresa ended things with me. You held me. You were, you were everything I could have wanted. And I did want you."

"Martin -" Douglas began but Martin interrupted.

"I'm not gay. Neither are you. And I don't know what happened to, to change things. But, but they're changed now. And I don't know what this is, Douglas, and it's scary because I've never loved a man, but I do now, I love you, so please, please don't start it with me if all you want is a quick shag or, or something fleeting..."

Douglas quieted Martin with a kiss. When they parted, Douglas smiled and cupped Martin's cheek in his palm.

"It has changed for me, too. I want you, Martin. Not just now, not just tonight. I want a relationship with you. I want a life with you. Or, at least, I want to try. My track record is abysmal. Three divorces do not bode well for relationship success."

"My life hasn't exactly been a Valentino film, either, Douglas. Maybe this is our second chance to be happy with someone. Even though the someone is a surprise someone. I'd like to try, too. I, I want to be with you."

Martin cast his eyes down and blushed again. Douglas' heart melted.

"Then we'll make this work," Douglas stated, swiping his thumb across Martin's lower lip, watching transfixed as that simple action undid the boy. 

"Douglas," he moaned again, leaning into the touch. "So, so what's the next step? I mean, well, where do we go from here?"

"Well, usually about this time I lead the lovely lady to the bedroom. But -" Douglas waited, gauging Martin's reaction. Martin smiled.

"Then that's our next move, isn't it?" Martin whispered against Douglas' fingers, kissing them gently.

"Yes," Douglas groaned, tugging Martin up and leading him toward the bedroom. Douglas caressed the small of Martin's back as they walked.

 

_Sex with Martin was always exquisite, but the promise of being husband and husband aroused Douglas so thoroughly and completely, he could scarcely contain himself. Martin sat astride Douglas, both of them moving in perfect sync. Douglas' cock slid in and out of Martin's tight rear with just the proper amount of friction. Douglas' large hand was wrapped firmly around Martin's erection, pumping in rhythm with their lovemaking. They both moaned and writhed with vigor, ready to come after only a few minutes._

_"Martin," Douglas moaned in his melted chocolate voice, "So close. Make me come, my Captain. Make me _come..._ "_

_"Shall I go faster?" Martin asked, gasping and trembling. He was so close. Douglas' cock had been grazing Martin's prostate on almost every thrust, jolting him toward orgasm._

_"God, yes! Yes, yes, yes..."_

_Martin braced his hands against Douglas' chest and bucked faster. He moaned and panted, his own orgasm imminent. They came at the same time, a rare treat, crying out each other's names in the darkness. Once calm and sated, they snuggled for long minutes despite the need for showers._

_"I love you, Martin," Douglas whispered against Martin's damp ginger curls._

_"I love you, too, Douglas," Martin replied, almost asleep._

 

Martin and Douglas sat on the edge of the bed, facing each other, unsure of who should initiate the proceedings. They had removed their jackets and shoes, and unbuttoned their shirts, but remained mostly clothed. After a few moments, Douglas leaned forward and kissed Martin with closed lips. Martin responded, opening his mouth slightly and darting the tip of his tongue against Douglas' bottom lip. They moved closer, hands reaching for each other as the kiss became heated. Douglas' arms encircled Martin's waist, Martin's arms encircled Douglas' neck. Mouths open, tongues entwined, hands groping and searching, the two kissed passionately, instinct taking over. Until Douglas moved his hand to Martin's chest and felt...muscle. Bone. Firmness where he was used to soft fleshiness. Martin felt Douglas' apprehension.

"What's wrong, Douglas?"

"Nothing. Honestly, nothing. I was just surprised for a moment, that's all. I am used to a bit more on the chest, as I'm sure you are, as well. And I momentarily forgot myself. Forgive me."

"It's okay," Martin said, pulling back. "We can stop, I mean, if, if you'd like."

"No. I don't want to stop. Like I said, a momentary lapse of reason, nothing more. In fact, until I lost my senses, I was thoroughly enjoying your delicious mouth."

They kissed again, Douglas sliding his hand under Martin's shirt and palming his nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. Martin groaned, a wanton, decadent sound that went straight to Douglas' groin.

"Those noises you make," Douglas moaned. "What they do to me..."

Douglas slowly pushed Martin's shirt off of his shoulders, smiling into another kiss as Martin sucked in a ragged breath. Douglas then removed his own shirt and pulled Martin close, their chests pressing together.

"Trousers?" Douglas breathed, and Martin nodded eagerly.

Douglas made a show of unbuttoning and unzipping Martin's trousers, and then sliding them off slowly, enjoying the sight of his milky skin and lean muscle. He then removed his own. They sat on the bed in their pants and socks, breathing hard and smiling. Soon, their pants and socks joined the clothes pile and they faced each other, naked and aroused. Douglas slowly lowered Martin onto the bed. The lay facing each other, reveling in the heat and tenderness of their kiss.

"I, I don't know what to do," Martin whispered, pulling away, a frown creasing his mouth.

"Neither do I. But we'll work it out together. Let's just start, and see what bits we both like." Douglas leaned over and nipped Martin's earlobe.

They spent the entire night awake, touching, exploring. Douglas found himself leading the exploration with Martin an eager follower. They didn't try to initiate anything so bold as penetration, not just yet. There would be plenty of time to discover who enjoyed bottoming and who would top. When they came, it was with hands on each other's erections, mouths jammed together, moaning against each other's lips. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, shunning blankets for body heat. Neither had slept so well in months.

 

_Douglas lay awake, watching Martin sleep and thinking about the first night they made love. The night Martin had sheepishly announced that he didn't know what to do. He more than made up for the lack of experience with vigorous enthusiasm. Douglas smiled. They would be married in a civil ceremony quite soon, that very week, if he had anything to do with it, and then they could start a true, proper life together. Martin snuffled in his sleep, full lips pouting, eyes shifting under his lids; dreaming, no doubt. Douglas placed a very light, soft kiss on those plump lips, and Martin snuffled again. He didn't know what had changed within him, what had caused him to fall for a man, his Captain of all people, after a life of heterosexuality. But whatever the catalyst, Douglas was grateful for it. He was happier than he had ever been with any of his wives or girlfriends. And although he had never worn the marriage jewelry in the past, he looked forward to the moment when Martin would slip the gold band around his finger and he could say, "I do." Because he did. He truly did. He nodded off smiling._


End file.
